


Coalesce

by The_Exile



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blooky might have just a tiny crush on Mettaton, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crying, Depression, Gen, Guilt, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Spoilers, look I made a hat, soul music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 21:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: Blooky can make things other than hats. The little ghost plans to make arms to hug back with one day but it's okay if they can't manage it right now.





	Coalesce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShamanicShaymin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamanicShaymin/gifts).



A little ghost hummed along to the soulful melody playing over the giant headphones that melded to the side of their body, where Frisk was skeptical they actually had ears. Presumably the soundwaves just vibrated through their ectoplasm or something. Frisk didn't want to disturb them by asking questions about how ghosts worked that, for all they knew, might be considered the height of rudeness, not when their friend was doing such a good job and finally looked vaguely satisfied with what they were doing. Besides, their singing voice was pleasant too, so soft as to almost be the sigh of the wind, yet clear and melodic, as if they practiced a lot when they were down in the ruins, avoiding the bustle of everyday life.

As they sang, they made things out of ectoplasm, mostly hats but also accessories that went with hats in their opinion: capes, monocles, umbrellas, canes, a pack of playing cards, a handkerchief emblazoned with Mettaton's face - they still used the rolley box thing with switches - that was erased with a dramatic flourish of the handkerchief, landing it on a small stool next to the cards.

"Starting a magic act?" guessed Frisk, testing the weight of another stool in the room after carefully moving one of the endless top hats. A rabbit peeked out from it that almost made Frisk drop the hat until they realised it was a stuffed toy.

"Just seeing what objects I can make," the ghost's form rippled in what Frisk took to be as much of a shrug as you could make when you were a small, formless, floating blob, "Sorry they're so terrible. I didn't want to annoy anyone by letting them see this."

"Oh, don't be like that," Frisk smiled, "I think they're great."

"Y... you do? You're not saying that?"

"All the magic I've seen people use around here has been thrown at me with the intent to kill me or sometimes to heal me if they're in a good mood. This is the first true creativity I've seen, the first time someone's just conjured a hat to put on their head."

Napstablook blushed, an impressive feat in someone who couldn't change colour from glowing white, "This is how all ghosts get things done. We don't really have another way. Real ghosts - ghosts who aren't faulty - they can make anything they like. Hands, feet, proper attack magic that isn't just tears..."

"I bet if you practiced hard enough, you could make a hand. Just one," said Frisk, "It would only need to be a small one. If it could float, like everything else is, it could pick up anything it wants."

"Living things are so hard, though, they're a lot more complicated than they look."

"Make a mechanical hand, then, like those claw things in the amusement arcades that are all rigged," Frisk told them authoritatively, "Or... Oh! I've got a much better idea! Let's ask Alphys to make you a real robot hand! The Doctor might even have another robot body spare, and then you could..."

Napstablook's face darkened, "How did you know about that?"

Frisk froze, panic spreading across their usually unreadably stoic face. They waved their hands desperately in front of them, "I... I didn't read anything embarrassing, I promise! I just caught sight of the pages on the floor because I wanted to put them back where they belonged! It's Catty and Bratty's fault for selling me the key! I... look, I'm so sorry, I just wanted to help you guys out. Is that okay?" 

"I'm going to complain... Oh, who am I kidding, we both know I'm not that brave," the ghost sighed, their wide, dark eyes brimming with tears. Frisk reached out a hand to pat them on what the child guessed to be the forehead. The ghost didn't resist.

"I'm sorry if I reminded you of something that must have been sad. I get it if you don't want to do what they did. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being a ghost at all! I wouldn't want everyone to run away so there are no more ghosts!"

Napstablook let out a bitter little laugh, "You haven't met any real ghosts, have you? I'm the worst ghost ever. All I really have is a soul and it's not a fully working one."

"How can a soul be faulty? If Alphys did something to it, I will have words."

"Oh, nothing I can blame on someone else. Hey, seeing as you come to visit me and you listen to my jam, I'll tell you a secret I've never told anyone else. You mustn't tell anyone either, okay?"

Frisk nodded their agreement, the usual solemn determination on their face looking more serious than usual. The ghost drifted closer to whisper something into their friend's ear.

"I'm not worth XP," Napstablook admitted, "In fact, I'm worth negative XP. That's how worthless I am. There's not even a point in killing me. Absorb my soul and you'll end up with less than you started with. In fact, your soul would probably be sick with disappointment from..."

The ghost's dull voice broke off into a surprised yelp as, from out of nowhere, the child tackle-hugged them tightly. Not caring that their feet were dangling off the floor like they were holding onto a crying helium balloon whose tears stung a little, barely 1 HP damage but it was still painful when you hadn't gained a level in your entire life, that they were now soaking wet and covered in light spiritual burn marks, they hung on, pressing their face against the cool, slick surface of the ghost. After a few seconds and half Frisk's HP, the ghost relaxed and returned to the ground, actually laying down and letting the child relax next to them, like they did when they were chilling out to music that felt as though it were elevating them to a new level of awareness closer to the primal song of the Universe.

"Look, don't say such bad things about - whatever it is that makes you unique. It saved you. Don't you get it? Everyone else was absorbed but something about you made you so special that the Universe wouldn't let you suffer like that. I think... maybe... it gets your music."

"Thank you," whispered Napstablook, "But now I just feel awful because I was the only one not hurt when I'm worth the least. I mean, what if my... what if Mettaton..."

"Your Mettaton's fine, don't worry," Frisk smiled, "You missed their last concert, though. I think they were looking out for you in the crowd."

"Oh... I'm so, so sorry... I was hiding in the rafters... I didn't feel well enough to handle the crowd."

"It's okay, Blooky. We all know you try your best and we understand if you need time to yourself when you're sick. Just... just don't go around trying to be worth XP on purpose, okay? Nobody you want to talk to looks at someone and wonders what their XP value is anyway. And XP doesn't make you able to draw hands properly." 

"Do you think Mettaton will be mad if I go and apologise?"

"I think you might need practice letting people hugging you without them needing healing afterwards."

"Okay," said the ghost. 

The second time, Frisk only took one HP damage and felt a slight ghostly tap of a finger on their shoulder.


End file.
